


Catching the Lark

by Zdenka



Category: Les Contes d'Hoffman - Offenbach/Barbier
Genre: Gen, Shadows and Reflections
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 02:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16399625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zdenka/pseuds/Zdenka
Summary: Giulietta makes a bargain with a mysterious stranger.





	Catching the Lark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quillori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillori/gifts).



> Many thanks to Raspberryhunter for beta-reading and encouragement.

Dapertutto: _Scintille, diamant, miroir où se prend l’alouette . . ._ (Sparkle, diamond, mirror where the lark is caught . . .)

* * *

Captain Dapertutto’s chamber of marvels and curiosities is justly renowned. It is such a collection as can be gathered only by a gentleman of wealth and taste, who has spent many years going to and fro upon the earth and walking up and down it. Perhaps this is the reason for his name, which means _Everywhere_ ; a suitable sobriquet for one who feels at home in every region and country, or perhaps in none.

On a marble pedestal rests a silk purse, beautifully embroidered, which has this remarkable property: it is always full of gold coins, and no matter how often one reaches into it, it is never empty. Here too is a commodious red tent, furnished with carpets and large enough to hold twenty people comfortably, which yet folds up so small that it can be placed inside the shell of a walnut.

For those of a more ghoulish inclination, there is the skull of a certain murderer, whose deeds are too well known to need recounting here. For those who love knowledge, there is a philosophical treatise whose pages, when opened, will display the contents in the reader’s own language, though he hail from the farthest regions of the earth. Also well worthy of mention is a large glass jar, filled with seawater with a little white sand at the bottom. Resting upon the sand is a golden crown of marvelous workmanship, set with jewels. Though the crown can be seen clearly through the sides of the jar, whoever puts his arm inside and tries to grasp it, will grasp only water. Some speculate that it is waiting for the true king—though of what land, is unknown—and only he to whom it rightfully belongs will be able to lift it out.

More remarkable still, there is a white cloth screen on which is displayed a shadow—the shadow of a man, though no one is there to cast it. This shadow lives a life of luxury, reclining at its ease on shadowy cushions, eating and drinking the shadows of food and wine; or sometimes it will jump to its feet, draw its sword, and fence vigorously as if fighting an unseen opponent. It is a restless shadow, as though it would still confusedly search for its owner; but its search is destined to be unavailing, for the man who cast it is no longer among the living.

There is also a mirror with a gilded frame, in which is trapped the reflection of a poet. He gazes outward with an adoring expression. Though his Muse may watch over him, she has lost this fragment of him forever.

But perhaps the most striking object, occupying pride of place in the center of one wall, is the full-length portrait of Giulietta, the famed courtesan of Venice. It is marvelously lifelike; one might think she had only stepped into the frame and could at any moment step back out again. One must admire the way the painter has captured the brilliancy of her eyes and the rose-pink of her lips, the silk folds of her gown with its gold thread that catches the light, the fiery glint of the diamond ring on her finger. And her expression? She is smiling—a charming smile, well-known to all who had the good fortune to see her. But there is a hint of scorn in her smile as well, a hint of defiance in her eyes; perhaps a warning to those who would seek to capture the heart of a courtesan.  
  


* * *

   
Giulietta gazed into the rippling water of the canal. She could hear the noise and laughter of the party inside the house. It was cooler outside, and everything was in readiness: the refreshments were set out on small tables, and many brightly colored lanterns cast an enchanting light over the garden. She should return and invite the guests to come outside.

Instead, she looked fixedly at the reflection of her face in the water. She was praised for her beauty, her wit, and her charm; she knew well how to capture men’s hearts and how to keep them at a distance. But her power came from her youth. Wrinkles and grey hairs could be disguised for a short time, and then?

The reflections of the colored lanterns bobbed in the water; a short distance away was the bridge that spanned the canal and its twin reflection. Earlier that day, as she crossed the square, she had seen Isotta begging for coins from the passers-by. Isotta, whose beauty and elegant airs Giulietta had once admired, whose magnificent parties had aroused her envy. Now—Giulietta saw her hair streaked with grey, her clothes torn and disheveled, and no one in her former life would give her shelter or think to ask what had become of her. Who would support a woman of her sort, when she no longer had anything to give?

Giulietta had hardened her heart against pity and turned away before Isotta saw her. If Isotta had been so foolish as not to keep some of her patrons’ largess, that was not Giulietta’s affair. She would do better for herself. Yet even if Giulietta was prosperous in her old age, what kind of a life would that be? No longer sought out and admired; no longer to reign over the enchanted nights, seeing all eyes follow her as she passed. Growing old truly was hateful. If only she need not age! But she would use her beauty while she had it, and use it well.

A dark shape seemed to loom up in the water, surrounding her reflection. She froze, but a moment later she smiled at her fear. There was nothing in the water, only some shadow behind her. She turned gracefully, a charming smile ready on her lips.

It was one of the guests, a stranger in a long black cloak that had reflected in the water. She had seen him earlier in the evening but not paid close attention to him, and he had not approached her. He let the cloak fall back from one shoulder. “I hope I do not intrude, madam? I have been remiss in not introducing myself to our hostess.” His voice was surprisingly deep.

Giulietta evaluated him with a practiced eye: an officer, judging by his boots and sword, but not a poor one; there were jewelled rings on his hands, gold embroidery on his sash and gold on the hilt of his sword. “You are welcome here, sir—as are all who come in search of delight and diversion. I think we have not met before?”

“I have not had that pleasure.” He bowed with a flourish. “I am Captain Dapertutto.”

“A strange name!”

“One that suits me, I find. I am not an ordinary man. If I wish it, I can read the hearts and minds of others, and speak their thoughts aloud as if I had read them in a book.”

Giulietta granted him a smile, toying with her gold necklace. “A marvelous talent! Tell me then, sir, what was I thinking of just now?”

She expected him to say ‘a lover’ or ‘a handsome young captain’; something that might lead to a flirtation. But instead he smiled slowly and answered, “You were thinking that it is a shame that your beauty and youth must fade and vanish like the reflections in that canal.”

She hid her surprise and glanced at him through her lashes. “Perhaps I was thinking of something like that! What a pity there is no medicine or magic charm to make youth last forever.” He was older than she had thought at first, she decided. It was something about the eyes.

The captain chuckled. “It is indeed a pity, especially when one is as lovely as the fair Giulietta. But what if there were such a magic charm?”

Giulietta laughed. “It pleases the Captain to talk nonsense. If there were such a thing, would not the most wealthy and powerful noblemen and ladies already have obtained it?”

“But wealth and power cannot obtain it—not unless they first make an agreement with me.”

“And what is this agreement?”

“For a certain time—let us say twenty-four years—you may live where you wish, go where you wish, take whatever lovers or patrons you desire. You will lack for nothing; I will give you all the wealth you could ask for and every luxury you dream of. And you will remain young and beautiful; the face you see in your mirror will stay unchanged from the image you were gazing at in the canal just now.”

“And in return?” Of course there would be a price; there always was.

The captain smiled. “I am a collector of rare items. From time to time, I will call upon your charms to help me obtain some trifle I have my eye on. And when the term is up, you will dwell where I wish and serve me as I command.”

This Captain Dapertutto did not seem too unpleasant a patron; surely she had known of worse. And he must be vastly wealthy to make such an offer. “But can you really do as you promise?”

“I assure you, I fulfill my bargains. But if I fail, then you are free, and I will demand nothing more of you.”

Giulietta turned away, pretending to consider, and studied her reflection in the rippling water. She had already made up her mind. Eternal youth—it seemed impossible. But if he was lying or mad, then she would owe him nothing. And to have such a patron, eccentric and wealthy, could set her up for life.

She turned around to face him with a swirl of skirts. “I accept.”

The captain smiled again. “Give me your hand, to seal our bargain.”

She held out her hand; he took it in a surprisingly strong grip and raised it to his lips in a courtly gesture.

Something stung her, and she snatched her hand back. There was a shallow scratch on her hand, where a drop of blood welled up.

“What misfortune,” Dapertutto said smoothly. “It seems there was a loose prong on my ring.” He held it up to show her, and Giulietta caught her breath. She had never seen a jewel so lovely: a dark red ruby, its heart gleaming with a strange fire.

Dapertutto took off the ring and carefully bent the prong back into shape. He held the ring out to her in his palm. “Please accept it, with my apologies—and as an earnest of the many gifts I will give you.”

Giulietta hesitated only a moment before she took it.  
  


* * *

  
There are a number of methods for catching Larks or other small birds, but I will mention only three of them here. The first method is to bring a hawk into the field of grain where the Larks are feeding, and let the hawk fly. Upon seeing the shadow of the hawk, the Lark will freeze and remain motionless, hoping to escape the hawk’s attention. A clever bird-catcher may then snare her with a noose tied to the end of a long reed. This method is illustrated and described in Latin verse in the _Venationes ferarum, avium, piscium, pugnae bestiariorum & mutuae bestiarum_ of Jan van der Straet: _Sic nexu capitur, quae defugit alitis ungues._ (Thus she is caught with a noose, who flees from the bird’s talons.) Frightened by one danger, the Lark will fall into another.

The second method is what is known as Low-belling. The bird-catcher goes forth on a dark night with a bell or bells fastened to his belt. The Larks are accustomed to cow-bells and will thus mistake the hunter for harmless cattle. When the bird-catcher spies the Larks sleeping on the ground, he opens the lantern and suddenly shines a beam of light into their eyes. The Larks are dazed, and while their sight is dazzled, they can easily be caught with a long-handled net.

The third method is the use of Lark-mirrors. A piece of wood, painted bright red and studded with many small mirrors, is mounted on a stake in such a way that it can be made to turn back and forth when pulled by a long string. The bird-catcher hides himself; he holds the end of the string in his hand, pulling it back and forth. The wood turns this way and that, the mirrors glitter and catch the sunlight, and the Larks are irresistibly drawn to them. They fly and flutter around the Lark-mirror until they are netted. Or sometimes the turning mirror itself is placed in the center of the net, where it lures the Larks to fly in. Strange quirk of their nature! which impels them to fly towards that which will destroy them.  
  


* * *

  
Although Giulietta’s maids had not announced a visitor, she was not truly surprised by Dapertutto’s appearance in her room. She was sitting before her mirror with her jewelry-box open before her. She slid her favorite diamond ring onto her finger and studied the effect; it was one that Dapertutto had given her years ago in return for some favor.

Dapertutto’s voice spoke from behind her: “Good evening, my beauty.”

Giulietta started and turned around. “It’s you,” she said, rising to greet him. He somehow had the knack of appearing and disappearing as he wished; he had never been willing to tell her how he did it, though she had often tried to wheedle the secret out of him.

Dapertutto bowed over her hand. “It is I. And I have come here today for a particular purpose.”

“I am your servant; what do you wish me to obtain for you this time?” She no longer troubled herself to wonder why Dapertutto made his strange requests; they were often amusing, and he rewarded her generously when she fulfilled them.

“Yes, you have served me well, my dear. But that is not why I have come here today. I trust you have not forgotten the time?”

“The time?”

“The time when the term of our bargain comes to an end. As your mirror will show you, you are still young and beautiful. You have reigned for twenty years and more as an acknowledged beauty, luring men’s souls with your sparkling eyes.”

“You flatter me, Captain.”

“I do not flatter—and neither do I boast. I have done as I promised, in every particular. Now it is for you to obey me.”

Giulietta found her heart beating faster. “I have found our bargain very agreeable so far,” she said, keeping her tone light. “And I have brought you many treasures and trifles according to your whims. What does the Captain wish me to do?”

He took a small gilded rectangle of wood from his pocket and set it down on the floor, where it speedily grew to the size and shape of a doorway. Yet it was an empty frame; Giulietta could see her room through it, with its fine carpets and high windows and embroidered curtains.

“I desire you, my beauty, to step through this frame.”

“You are jesting, my good sir. I will only step through to the other side again.”

“Nevertheless, this is what I wish you to do.” Dapertutto folded his arms. “I have fulfilled my part of the bargain, and now you must fulfil yours.” He did not move towards her or reach for his sword, but there was a tone of menace in his voice. Giulietta began to be frightened, though she could not say why. His eyes glittered so strangely.

She would not let him think that she feared him. “Very well,” she said as if humoring him. “I have not forgotten our bargain. Since you wish it so much, of course I will do it.” She lifted her skirts gracefully and stepped through the frame.

It was dark. How could it be dark, when it was daylight just a moment ago, with sunlight streaming through her windows? The only light came from behind her. She turned around. The light was diminishing, the rectangle growing smaller as if with the closing of a door.

He would not frighten her this way. She was Giulietta, whose look could bring men to their knees, whose smile melted hearts. She gave a charming smile, the smile that was her lure and her weapon. She could still see Dapertutto standing in her room; his face bore a cruel smile of triumph. She began to give him one last look of scorn and defiance, and then the door closed and there was only darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> going to and fro upon the earth and walking up and down it – slightly adapted from Job 1:7.
> 
> twenty-four years – the length of time specified in the contract between Faust and Mephistophilis in Marlowe’s _Doctor Faustus_.
> 
> The descriptions of low-belling and lark-mirrors are based on Chapter VII: [Fowling for Larks](https://archive.org/details/cu31924000125256/page/n121) in _A History of Fowling: Being an account of the many curious devices by which wild birds are or have been captured in different parts of the world_ , by Hugh Alexander Macpherson, published in 1897.
> 
>  _Venationes ferarum, avium, piscium, pugnae bestiariorum & mutuae bestiarum_ is a real book, published in 1580. The verse I quoted is from [this page](https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b550059821/f76.item), which also has an illustration of the method. I cannot personally guarantee any of these methods for catching larks.


End file.
